Natalie Anderson - Modern Romance February 2020 Books 5-8

The woman raised her left hand and pointed at her wedding finger. A huge diamond ring lay snugly on it. ‘I am Sophia. Tonino’s fiancée.’

Twenty minutes later and the two women were in Orla’s hotel room. Sophia perched delicately on the small armchair while Orla sat on the floor feeling as if she’d been punched by a heavyweight with lead in his gloves. Spread on the carpet around her were photographs of Tonino and Sophia. Many photos. There were also press clippings and glossy magazines. Orla didn’t understand Sicilian but some of the words in the article needed no translation. Tonino and Sophia’s engagement party two months ago had been deemed newsworthy.

‘I sorry to tell you this,’ Sophia said in a tone that suggested she was loving every minute of it. ‘Tonino has made fool of you. He has lied to you. You are fun to him. Sì? ’

‘I’ve been a bit of fun?’ Orla whispered. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

‘ Sì . That why I here. I warn you. Tonino loves me. We are to marry.’

Orla was unaware that tears were leaking down her face, and too numb to care that there was a warning in the Sicilian woman’s tone as well as in her actual words.

This must be what he’d wanted to talk to her about that night.

Fool that she was, she’d believed he wanted to discuss a future for them.

Her hand shook as she picked up the glossy magazine containing a twenty-page spread of their engagement party.

How could an ordinary hotel manager attract such a wealthy, high-maintenance woman like this? And why would an ordinary hotel manager be the recipient of the kind of press attention usually reserved for the rich and famous?

Fearing she could be sick, she groped for her phone and keyed Tonino Valente’s name into the search engine.

Ten minutes later she was still reading and searching but it was as if someone had taken possession of her body and was reading the damning evidence for her.

She felt light-headed. Boneless.

Tonino had lied about more than his marital status.

He wasn’t the manager of the hotel as he’d led her to believe. He was the owner. This hotel was just a small cog in a vast empire.

Tonino Valente was the sole owner of Valente Holdings, a chain of mostly hugely expensive hotels across Europe that catered for the filthy rich. Tonino, who was also an enthusiastic investor in start-up businesses, was filthy rich in his own right.

The man she’d opened her heart for, who she’d dared believe she could have a future with, was a cheat and a liar. The worst kind of liar. A rich, powerful liar. His grandfather was one of Sicily’s top judges. His mother was one of Sicily’s leading criminal lawyers. His father was a leading Sicilian politician.

Her Internet search revealed that the immaculately beautiful woman in the obscenely expensive outfit sitting on Orla’s hotel-room armchair was Sophia Messina. The Messinas were a Sicilian family as wealthy and powerful as the Valentes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, meeting Sophia’s cold, unflinching eyes. ‘I knew nothing about you.’

‘Now you know…you go?’ It was framed as a question, but the underlying threat hung between them.

Orla didn’t need the threat.

‘Yes.’ Breathing heavily to quell the rising nausea, she stumbled over to the wardrobe. ‘Yes. I go.’

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